


Of Similes and Candy Breath

by sakesushimaki



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: M/M, Twisted and Fluffy Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-03
Updated: 2011-07-03
Packaged: 2017-10-21 00:01:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/218571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sakesushimaki/pseuds/sakesushimaki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Goddamn Eames. What a pain in the ass.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Similes and Candy Breath

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first time that I’m venturing out of my non-slashy home fandom! THE FIRST TIME! *flails* I’m fully blaming merkuria for that. Feedback much appreciated.

The first time it happens, Arthur is annoyed. He’s not going to make a big deal out of it.

Arthur isn’t sure why he even agreed to this job. What he _is_ sure about, though, is that he never would’ve taken the job had he known about Eames being on board already.

Goddamn Eames. What a pain in the ass.

Exhaustion doesn’t even begin to describe how wiped out he feels after this bitch of a day. Getting beaten up in two dream layers is not how this operation was supposed to go. He’s going to have that part out with Dom tomorrow.

Not helping the situation, Eames took it upon himself to endlessly mock Arthur and Dom on account of their rookie mistakes. _“I thought I had to come down there and rescue you, darling!”_

At the end of the day, Arthur was ready to beat up Eames, but this time in reality. The fact that after a while, the fucker came over and actually inquired how he was, eyes big and... _weird_ , didn’t change that feeling. Not one bit.

Arthur drops down on the unsettlingly comfortable hotel bed. He decides that he can’t possibly get up again to remove the towel from around his waist and put on something to sleep in. He just can’t.

But because the world is clearly unfair, complete exhaustion doesn’t morph into sleepiness, and so Arthur lies awake. He figures the best remedy is still jerking off — afterwards he always falls asleep quickly.

He can’t help it that his thoughts drift to an elegant nose and full lips when he pumps his cock. To a tight jaw, to perfect, hard shoulders.

But it’s okay, because the images are abstract enough and it’s just this one time.

Just this one time he does jerk off with impressions of Eames on his mind.

 

+

 

The second time, the shades become a little sharper. Arthur finds that somewhat unnerving.

The minibar project does not bring the desirable effect — he still can’t settle down.

The meeting with the new client went well, the research was pretty productive, he found a shop that sold cookies that tasted almost exactly like his grandma’s.

All in all, a good day.

So why does he lie awake again?

As his hand wanders low, his mind wanders far. Tonight, it seems to appreciate detail. All the angles work, and he can see parts in miniscule precision before him. What he sees are muscles rippling in a back, damp, ink-marked skin stretching over them, a faint stubble on a strong jaw line.

And again, he can’t believe how quickly he comes. And how intensely.

He decides to avoid Eames from now on.

 

+

 

The third time, he doesn’t know where to stop. It freaks him out.

People have started to notice that their usual banter is off. Eames seems to be pouting and more than once Arthur overhears someone commenting with a _like he lost his puppy_ simile.

But Arthur is not a puppy and he’s done playing stupid games.

Eames is just bored, is all. So bored, in fact, that he brings Arthur coffee a couple of times. Which is just… really weird.

Another city, another bed, but those same lips, those same hands are called up by his restless mind.

Still, something is different.

The lips, the fingers, they don’t remain semi-abstract concepts, but wrap around Arthur’s cock, stroke over his heated skin. They make him moan in a way that’s just this side of pathetic and feel turned on like he hasn’t been in a long time.

He goes deeper.

When his fingers dig into the sheets, he imagines them clawing at Eames’ chest, back, ass. He can feel hot, moist breath flowing between their mouths, ruts up against the hips he imagines on top of his.

When he comes, he explodes in waves. He bites into the corner of a pillow and can almost taste Eames’ skin.

 

+

 

The fourth time… Well, technically, there is no fourth time. But there is something.

Eames corners him on Thursday, 3:27pm. Arthur knows that because he fixes his eyes on the wall clock for a couple of seconds. Just until he can breathe again.

“Why the hell are you acting so weirdly towards me?”

“What do you mean?” Arthur is embarrassed for that lame sound, not even remotely resembling a scoff.

“Oh, don’t start! Playing the fool doesn’t suit you, da—” Eames huffs. “I’ve honestly been trying for the past days and you won’t even look at me.”

Arthur brushes the warm hands that are pressing him against the wall off his shoulders. “What do you mean _you have been trying_? What? Why?” He really tries to concentrate, really tries to sound annoyed, but Eames is pushing a candy around in his mouth and Arthur can hear the soft clicks against his teeth.

When he looks up, he knows that he fucked it up. He knows that he stared at Eames’ mouth for a bit too long.

He isn’t happy when he finds a corner of Eames’ mouth lifting.

“Because I’ve realized that being an arse to you might be counterproductive to my goals.”

And Arthur really wishes that Eames wouldn’t stay so close, because nobody can expect him to comprehend anything while there’s Eames’ moist candy breath in his face and a palm lightly pressing on Arthur’s hip. “I… what? Your goals?”

Eames just stares and Arthur feels his own pulse everywhere.

Eames moves forward without warning. Arthur didn’t even see it coming. All he’s aware of is a thump from the hands suddenly pressing on either side of his head and then his mouth is covered by Eames’.

Eames pushes and pulls, bites and licks, and Arthur can’t help the tiny moans. Eames eats them from his lips and then slowly slips his tongue into Arthur’s mouth.

When it ends, Arthur topples forward a bit, but a hand on his shoulder steadies him. Two tiny kisses are pressed against his jaw, a mere brush of lips against skin, and he is left standing there.

Arthur tastes candy and pure Eames on his lips for a long time.

 

+

 

Seven hours later, he’s nervous and thinks he should’ve thought up some kind of excuse to be showing up here.

But it’s too late now. The door swings open and he is greeted with a big — and he hopes at least a _bit_ surprised — smile.

“I… I thought I…”

But Eames is already tugging him inside, smelling of promise and English candy.


End file.
